My Family in the Novel?

The morning air crackled with energy as Tristan, still grappling with the weight of recent events, found himself thrust into an unexpected confrontation.

Before he could react, he felt the rush of wind around him, his vision blurring as Siena's firm grip latched onto his face.

In a whirlwind of motion, he was airborne, soaring through the air like a leaf caught in a tempest.

After what felt like an eternity, Siena landed gracefully on the ground, tossing Tristan aside with apparent ease. As he struggled to regain his bearings, Siena stretched her body with a playful smile, her eyes fixed on Tristan.

In the blink of an eye, Siena vanished from his sight, leaving him disoriented and breathless.

The forest around them quivered as the shockwave from her reappearance rippled through the air.

The impact of Siena's knee connecting with Tristan's stomach echoed through the landscape, sending him tumbling across the ground.

This time, however, Tristan managed to summon enough reflex to block Siena's follow-up kick with his left arm, mitigating the damage from the powerful blow.

Despite the pain coursing through him, he focused on quickly healing his battered insides.

No sooner had he regained a semblance of composure than Siena surged forward again, an exuberant smile gracing her face.

"Hahaha, it seems you haven't lost your touch yet, kid!" she exclaimed, dashing towards Tristan with relentless energy.

"Please calm down, master!" Tristan implored, attempting to block Siena's oncoming attack.

However, the force of her punch proved too much to withstand.

He was sent flying through the air once more, landing on the ground with a series of bounces that echoed the rhythm of the intense exchange.

Tristan's body throbbed with pain as he attempted to rise, only to be met with a trembling weakness that sent him back to the ground.

Blood seeped from wounds, and his arms lay tattered, broken bones protruding in grotesque angles.

The force of Siena's assault lingered, a testament to the fact that restraint was a foreign concept to his mentor.

A wry thought flitted through Tristan's mind — 'she truly doesn't know how to hold back'

Determined to regain control of the situation, Tristan invoked his light magic.

A sudden golden aura enveloped him, weaving a tapestry of healing energy that wrapped around his battered form.

In mere seconds, the wounds, both external and internal, closed, leaving him restored.

Siena's observant eyes didn't miss the display of Tristan's strengthened healing abilities.

"Oh, looks like your healing spells got stronger, huh?" she remarked with a smiling face, though the sarcasm in her tone betrayed her amusement.

Her expression turned more serious as she continued, "Is that why you publicly announced me as your master and even used that ability of yours in front of the whole student body? Did you want to become popular that much? Hey, tell me, dear disciple of mine, why did you ignore the two things I told you to never do once you're inside here?"

Siena's words hung in the air, and Tristan braced himself for the consequence of his actions. The glint of white aura manifested within her fist, its density palpable.

Tristan could sense the power it held — a force capable of rendering him unconscious with a single, precise strike.

The realization hit him that, despite his healing capabilities, there would be no opportunity to mend anything if he found himself knocked out cold.

"Please calm down, Master... Regarding me announcing you as my master, that was honestly just a slip of the tongue" Tristan pleaded, his voice a mix of earnestness and desperation.

"And if you're aware that I used light magic at the Joint Combat Exams, then you should know I had no choice at that time."

Siena regarded him with a raised eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "True... But since when did I train this dear disciple of mine to become so weak that you have to rely on the one thing I told you to never rely on?" Her words carried a pointed reproach, and Tristan felt a twinge of regret for his apparent lapse.

As if in response to her words, the world around Tristan suddenly turned white, a blinding flash obscuring his vision. In the next instant, darkness enveloped him, and all he felt was the impact of an incoming fist connecting with his face. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground.

Despite the overwhelming disorientation, Tristan clung to a sliver of consciousness. He was aware of his body hitting the ground, of the residual warmth of the punch lingering on his cheek.

The last thing he saw before his eyelids succumbed to darkness was Siena, standing over him with a triumphant smile, her laughter echoing in the void.

With that, Tristan slipped into unconsciousness, the world around him fading into obscurity.

…..

'What should I do with this kid?'

Siena pondered, a mix of frustration and concern etching lines on her face.

Tristan, her once-eager disciple, seemed to have strayed from the path she had envisioned for him.

His current behavior was a stark contrast to the enthusiastic apprentice who used to run in circles, hanging on to every word she uttered.

Nostalgia tugged at her thoughts as she reminisced about those simpler times.

As Siena observed Tristan lying unconscious before her, she couldn't shake the disappointment that tinged her contemplations.

Not only had he disregarded her words, but he had also blatantly broken the promise they had made. The Tristan of a few years ago, who eagerly sought her guidance, had evolved into someone unrecognizable.

Was it the natural course of growing up, or had the academy played a role in this transformation? The questions lingered, but Siena knew that dwelling on them wouldn't change the reality she faced.

Setting aside her musings, Siena acknowledged the silver lining in Tristan's current state. Despite his wayward choices, it was evident that he remained dedicated to his training.

The last punch, a move that typically rendered him unconscious instantly, had instead showcased a resilience she hadn't expected. He had not only seen the punch coming but also managed to retain consciousness for a few precious seconds.

"Haha, this much is needed if he wants to call himself my disciple," Siena mused, a hint of pride softening her exasperation. Gazing at Tristan's battered and unrecognizable face, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been a bit too harsh.

Although he was still breathing, the aftermath of her punch had left him looking as if he had been through a fierce battle. If anyone were to stumble upon him now, they might mistake the scene for something more sinister than a mentor imparting a valuable lesson…. Well at least according to her standards.

"Mila!" Siena's voice echoed through the clearing, summoning a ripple of blue mana that heralded the arrival of her teleportation specialist. In an instant, Mila materialized at Siena's side, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Tristan's battered state.

"Ughk, what did you do to your disciple, boss?" Mila questioned, a mix of shock and concern etched across her features.

"Punishing him?" Siena replied nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to the barbarity of her methods. To her, the act of imparting a lesson through physical means was as routine as breathing.

"Punish? Are you sure you didn't torture him?" Mila's worry was palpable as she swiftly approached the fallen Tristan.

Retrieving one of the few high-grade healing potions they possessed, Mila shot a disapproving glare at Siena, silently scolding her for squandering a valuable resource due to her short-tempered approach to discipline.

"Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. We can still make money by hunting the nearby monsters near the academy, right?" Siena deflected, avoiding direct eye contact with Mila as she attempted to justify her actions.

Sighing, Mila begrudgingly accepted the explanation, realizing that reasoning with Siena about the judicious use of resources might be a futile endeavor.

She focused on the task at hand, pouring the healing potion over Tristan's face, the liquid shimmering with potent magical properties.

Despite the high cost of the potion, Mila couldn't deny the necessity of expediting Tristan's recovery.

As the healing potion took effect, Tristan's wounds closed at a remarkable pace, the magic within accelerating his natural healing abilities

Siena gazed at her fallen disciple, a mix of emotions playing on her features. In the quiet aftermath of the impromptu lesson, her thoughts meandered into contemplation, and a question lingered in her mind like an elusive wisp of smoke. "Why did he become the hero and not my disciple?" Siena couldn't help but wonder, the gentle furrow of her brow revealing a genuine curiosity.

From the moment she took Tristan under her wing, Siena had been certain that his path would be paved with challenges, his innate talents and the blessings he carried as a child unmistakable sign of a destined greatness.

His proficiency with the sword and the subtle hints of a high level of divine energy marked him as a prodigious talent. Siena had envisioned him as the hero, poised to embark on an epic journey and face the tribulations that awaited.

However, fate had unfolded differently. The mantle of the hero, a role Siena had anticipated for Tristan, found its bearer in another.

A person she had once abandoned for the sake of safety ended up fulfilling the prophecy instead.

While Siena felt a measure of relief that her disciple had been spared the arduous journey that often befell heroes, a lingering sense of disbelief and perhaps a tinge of regret persisted.

Though outwardly content with the diversion from a traditional hero's tale, a part of Siena struggled to reconcile the reality before her.

The promise she made to her sister broken, because of a stupid negligence on her part.

The weight of unanswered questions lingered in Siena's mind, a sigh escaping her lips as she clicked her tongue in mild frustration.

'I'm sorry, Sister Selah. I promise I'll find out later as to why that darn bastard broke his promise!'

The mystery of why her nephew became the hero instead still lingering on her mind.